


lethe

by firepixel



Category: Mystic Messenger (Video Game)
Genre: Multi, adding warnings just to be safe because, but you won't really be able to tell until the second chapter anyway, dark-ish mc, implied suicide and broken mirrors, lapslock, lowkey brainwashing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-30
Updated: 2016-10-05
Packaged: 2018-08-18 17:23:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8169850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/firepixel/pseuds/firepixel
Summary: you really, really want seven to love you. is that so wrong?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cryslii](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cryslii/gifts).



> i don't know if im happy with how i wrote this. might redo it entirely someday!   
> this fic was previously titled _9_ , before i realized that "lethe" would be a great pun given how close it is to "lethal".
> 
> \+ (ironic) [soundtrack](https://youtu.be/bDZd0jvxxf8)

seven greets you first.  
no matter how many paths you travel down with him, no matter how many endings you reach, that one thing remains constant.  
he greets you first, and you fall a little more in love each time.

you're not quite sure what it was about him that caught your eye, that first time. perhaps his endlessly sunny disposition. perhaps his borderline shamelessness, leaving you grinning even as your cheeks burned. he flirted with you easily, teasingly, and you couldn't help but push back a little each time he pulled. perhaps it was the quirky moments, the ones that gave you pause, made you reconsider the things you thought you knew about him.  
or maybe it was all of those things.  
those things that made up his brand of weird charm, almost intoxicating, leaving you giddy off his excitement. sometimes you caught glimpses of the seven beneath that - something deeper, darker than his usual sunlight.

so, naturally, you wanted him.

in the grand scheme of things, acting on that was not difficult at all. the rules were straightforward. say the right thing, he'll like it. say the wrong one, he won't. tease back, coy, and he'll take it a little further next time. let his lines drop, awkward, and he'll apologize for it and move on. it seems fair.  
what doesn't seem fair is just how unpredictable he is.  
you don't even complain; you like it. but you also end up with bated breath and your baited lines, wondering if every reply you give will ultimately be the right one in the end.  
you want him to like you.

you really, really want him to like you.  
so naturally, you screw up.

it happens during one of your typical ass-o'clock-in-the-morning chats. you're given the usual few options; you're not thinking straight. you're already hyped up from talking to him even as your eyes threaten to not open on your next blink, and you don't really consider it when you hit enter on your next response.  
what jolts you awake, though, is the giant heartbreak animation that splashes across your screen.  
when he replies, a beat later, he sounds genuinely hurt for a moment. zen finds it incredibly amusing, follows your line up with a sarcastic quip of his own, even as you blink at your phone in mild shock. that was not supposed to happen.  
seven laughs it off, self-deprecating as always. he makes it into a joke, smoothes over the conversation, leads zen back into it as if nothing happened.  
it haunts you, though.  
you want things to be perfect.

luckily, you have just the thing you need.

you replay the conversation. skip through the first part; you've already grinned at that, before, and it's not what you are looking for now. you speed through the replies, until you arrive at the same few messages that led to your ultimate fuck-up. when the option screen pops up again, you read the options far more carefully this time, all traces of sleep gone.  
you need to get this right.  
luckily, there are only 3 of them, and basic elimination leads you to the right one.  
you tap, hold your breath a bit, release it when a red heart blinks in the chat.  
and just like that, everything is perfect again.

after that, you're even more dedicated to getting every reply right. before, you were content with neutral remarks; now, you want to appeal to him as much as possible. you wind back time, over and over, remember the best answers and fit them like puzzle pieces into a perfect jigsaw of your own.

until - the puzzle begins to unravel by itself.  
you're not sure when it happens; it's a little hard to keep track of all the possibilities when you've gone over so many ways to have the same conversation. you're not sure why it happens; you've done everything right, picked the best answer each time, did over every mistake. what you're sure of, however, is that you want him and you'll have him.  
whatever the cost.

you realize that in your focusing on him, you've not paid much attention to your conversations with the rest; rereading, you find tiny inconsistencies with what you told him. you fix those mistakes one by one. one particularly big mismatch takes you back two days prior; muscle memory takes you through the twenty-odd chats that happened between then and now.  
it's a little tiring and repetitive -  
but you know it will be worth it.  
(it's worth it, when he first tells you he loves you.)

you get careless.  
with an ability to instantly correct any misstep, you begin to look at the road before you cross it less. repetitiveness breeds boredom; you never dealt well with that. you amuse yourself by picking the bitchier options, by watching him squirm and stutter his way through replies tinged with humiliation. they make you feel extra benevolent when you choose the kinder options on your next replay, add contrast to highlight just how sweet and perfect you're being. he should appreciate that. he does. he tells you he loves you again and again, now, easier and easier each time, and your heart beats faster and faster. rabbit-like.

so it hits you like a stray truck when his replies become different.  
it's barely noticeable at first. your options remain the same, after all. it's a wonder you even notice any change at all, and yet - and yet. same conversation. same replies. you're skimming through it, even, to change your answer ten messages after - and you notice it.  
it's like a cloud passing over the sun, and it fills you with an instant feeling of murky dread. and after days on days of constant sunlight, it leaves you cold even as you carry on with the conversation. that is not supposed to happen, either.

he calls you right after, and his voice sounds strange. he tells you he is feeling a little unwell, to not worry, and you wish him a better mood and to get better soon, melting him into sheepish agreement even as your fingers grow cold where you are gripping the phone to your ear. on your previous replay, he never even mentioned any of this in this call. you know, because you have it saved. you know it's probably nothing to worry about, but this has never happened before. it makes you anxious.

so you get desperate. you step it up even more, if that was possible; you become fixated on him, on conversations with him, with getting everything just right. you're meant to end up together, you're sure; this is just a minor setback. you want him to be happy, and you know you can make him happy, you know you can be happy together. you just need to focus. it'll work out.

it doesn't. seven, your flirty, bright, brash seven, grows bitter. it's almost unnoticeable in increments but it grows like a room growing colder by degrees until your heart is frozen in your chest. you don't know how to fix it; you don't even know where you went wrong. it was supposed to be good, you were so good, perfect even - it was so perfect, until it wasn't.  
you fight. you and seven, you - you never fight. ever. you tease, you mock, you play around, but there's never any malice between you.  
until there is, and it chills you down to the bone. you reset the entire day, play through over and over and over in a bid to prevent it, with every path you travel down seemingly leading you down to it like something inevitable.  
by the time you find the right route to take, you're almost shaking.

you can't lose him.

 

 

 

 

 

 

it all comes to a head eventually, as you suppose it was going to from the very start.  
seven, precious seven, gets his hands on some files he wasn't supposed to see.  
and seven, precious seven, smashes the fourth wall a little too hard.  
it was already made of glass. perhaps that is why it feels as if there are jagged slivers in your heart  
seven looks like a trapped animal.  
your very soul hurts at that.

you almost don't want to do it, but -  
but you can't allow him to ruin everything now. not after everything, not after you've built a perfect route for the both of you, not after you've fallen in love with him and made sure he fell in love with you too -

 

 

you reset the entire game.


	2. 'good end'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> part 2 as promised.
> 
> \+ [soundtrack](https://youtu.be/MErvAr0yT4s)

that, of course, is when everything fucking goes to shit.

your first unpleasant surprise comes in the form of the very first chat, the one where someone offhandedly mentions jumin's cat and zen bitches about it. that, in itself, is somewhat unpleasant, but the surprising part comes when it - never happens.  
perhaps the game changes a bit when you reset the whole thing, you think. elizabeth will probably come up later. maybe the chat topics are a little switched, the order in which you collect media a tad different. nothing as creepy as cold seven, no?

except, she _never appears_.  
you never actually thought how much her existence defined the dynamic between everyone.  
to jaehee, the cat was a constant source of annoyance, just another responsibility for jumin to foist off onto her while he went about his business.  
to yoosung, she probably represented the weird kinky relationship he wished to have. you recall the conversation in which he lamented about wanting to be loved like jumin's cat. you shudder.  
to zen, she was the concrete thing he used to express his animosity when it came to jumin - except, apparently it went a lot deeper than that, because without her here they're... chummy. they're both pretty judgemental on their own, but this, this is them feeding off each other, judging everyone _together_ , and it's a strange thing to see. usually, you were given a choice to take a side in the eternal jumin v zen dragging; this time, you instead watch them efficiently annihilate any possible competition in the field of bitchcraft. it's unsettling, and has the awkward side-effect of you being unable to deal with either of them. they both require different approaches, how are you supposed to win them both over at the same time? so you leave them alone, and focus on your real goal.  
seven. perfect, fiery seven. you'd like to think he's _your_ seven, he just doesn't know that yet, he _was_ yours. what effect elizabeth's nonexistence has had on him, you can't tell yet, because out of all of them (with the exception of yoosung) he's been the most normal and like himself from the previous timeline. that's the only thing that really matters, you think, the only thing for you to worry about.

you really should have worried harder, though. it's subtle, like creeping rain, like slowly losing your vision in both eyes and never realizing everything is blurry until it comes back into sharp focus.  
seven is, on some level, fundamentally _different_.

that wouldn't bother you, but.

seven is, on many levels, trying his damn best to seem perfectly normal.

a lot of things about his differences, you don't mind. he tries harder to please you now; somehow, he seems more insecure, more willing to take your lead. it's actually kind of adorable. without elizabeth to focus his affections on, he is more affectionate with you, more eager. more _desperate_. desperate? you wonder where that one came from, but it definitely seems like it, what with how his flirty remarks suddenly turn serious, heavy with meaning. it's a little odd, but also more than a little empowering.

you watch jaehee, jumin and zen dance a weird tango for three; she adores zen, it's clear it goes beyond mere fangirling, and his respect for her is equally deep. jumin has a deliciously antagonistic relationship with them both, manages to drive them both crazy in his own way - except, without the cat to cement it in, they can't hide their affection for each other. zen finds jumin infuriating and attractive in equal measure, and you can tell that amuses jumin as much as it frustrates him. it's a strange game they play; but it makes it more fun when you reread their group chats later. you don't usually make it to read them live, because you have bigger concerns.

seven is a bigger concern. you aren't sure if you're actually perceiving it, or just projecting, but he does seem to be as uninvolved in the chats as you are recently. he begs off for coding, for work, for sleep. maybe it's just that he has nothing to talk about anymore, you think. jumin and zen and jaehee have their own thing, and yoosung does too - without the cat he has pretty much withdrawn into his lolol shell, though you're not sure if you can explain how those two things relate. the only relationship that hasn't changed, as a result, is the one he has with you.

or so you think, at least.

lovely, unpredictable seven, does something you can't help but suspect him for.  
when you first see the status, it makes your blood run cold. it's the same one he had at the start of the previous timeline; you reread it twice. it very clearly mentions jumin's cat, the only bit of evidence in the entire game of her existence ever, and. that's not the most disturbing thing. you are in your sms thread with seven, wondering how to bring it up without seeming totally strange, when you are hit with the urge to check it once again just to verify, just to make sure your eyes aren't playing tricks on you and the multiple playthroughs aren't fucking with your mind.

when you check back, the status is gone.

it's an instant flurry of red flags, your fingers tripping over themselves as you exit the profile and open it again, a few times, once again - but all mention of elizabeth is gone. seven is offline, of course he is, you must have read it wrong, must have remembered it wrong, there is no way he can know -  
except. except.

he _does_ , doesn't he?

suspicion eats at you. you watch him closer, closer, waiting for any kind of slip-up, any kind of clue he might remember anything at all from last game. you can't let that happen. you can't let him ruin this game too, can't bear to have to try again. you're perfect for each other; the game glitching should not be able to keep you apart. you'll make it. you're _sure_ of it.

he slips up.  
well, not really, but you're sure it counts when he casually asks jaehee about how she's dealing with keeping the cat. she responds with confusion, with a contemplative shudder at the idea of her boss even owning a cat, and seven plays it off remarkably well. jokes about jumin being the kind of person who would own a cat, laments about how he doesn't have his own. it's seven. he often does weird things, it's nothing new to the rest of the members, who pay it no mind and chalk it down as another sevenesque random topic change.  
it's not all that random for you.  
you have to play along, though, so you act alongside jaehee. tell him it's a silly idea, that jumin probably wouldn't be able to take care of a cat given his hectic schedule, that jaehee ( _strong independent assertive jaehee_ ) would never take the cat and zen would never let him try to give it to her.  
it must be convincing, because there is a note of doubt in seven's tone, a sprinkle of questioning himself. you tease him about letting dreams blur into his reality and he laughs. it's a little incredulous, a little sheepish, but fuck, you've missed his laugh. it's bright, and warm, and it reminds you of why you're doing all this.

for him. and for you. for the both of you.

he asks you, once, why he feels like he already knows you. why he feels like you're closer, somehow, even though you just met. you laugh, tell him it's so romantic, that it must mean you're meant for each other. he has to agree.  
he's confused, sure, but he trusts you.  
that's more than enough.

dating him comes a lot easier than before. he seems to encourage it; wants you closer with a kind of fervor he never showed a glimpse of earlier. you like it. it makes you feel important. and you are important, the most important. he isn't close to the trio that is jaehee-jumin-zen; isn't close to yoosung, the lonely gamer that he is; isn't close to v. v isn't really close to anyone anymore, though, so you can't really compare. point is, it's almost like seven only has you.

it's intoxicating.

you think, sometimes, that he's afraid of losing you. or maybe just afraid of making you angry. he tiptoes around conflict with a hesitation that is new, even when you're joking. even when he has nothing to worry about. it's a strange kind of role reversal, really, to have him think about his words for a change, instead of the other way round. to have him worry if he's appealing to you, instead of you worrying the same. it's new, very unlike seven, but you lap it all up nonetheless.  
he wants you, finally, he needs you, finally, and you can finally, finally, be a little more like yourself.

you stop picking the nicest options for everything.  
he doesn't protest.  
he can't protest; if he does, you're fully ready to skip back and make him forget his reservations, train him to accept you as you are, choice by choice, smoothing out any wrinkles in your relationship.

whatever it takes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next chapter, im adding an archive warning.


	3. 'bad end'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh man. i wanted to finish this but wasn't sure how exactly to go about it, so i'm adding this to the list of things i might completely rewrite later.
> 
> me hope u likey
> 
> \+ [soundtrack](https://youtu.be/pUlX8ltm_JU)

the universe has a funny way of fucking with you, see.  
it gives you everything; on a silver platter, even.  
then it watches you _choke_.

they say it's not paranoia if someone is really watching you. in context, you shouldn't have dismissed red flags as easily as you did; should have taken off the pink-tinted glasses for a second to rest your eyes, see things as they are. but isn't trust the foundation of love?

 ** _love_**. what an interesting concept. has he ever told you he loved you before you taught him how to? would he have, if you didn't care so much about things being perfect? you would find out, maybe, if you could. you like to think that. in truth, you would probably be too afraid to.

afraid of losing him? yes, yes you are. you came so far - reset the game for him, replayed and replayed until you made everything fit just right, maximised his attraction and capitalized on it. you've built something beautiful in the process, evolved your banter into declarations of love, _love_ \- you can't lose _love_ , no.  
not when you've just found it.

you just had to fall in love with a hacker, didn't you?

the exact moment you found out isn't something you can accurately pinpoint. it's more a progression of feelings, unease mixing into adoration, doubt creeping into indulgence. it starts with the status and lurks at the corners of your mind, silent. you forgot that the brightest light casts the darkest shadows, conveniently omitted from your memory things you probably should have taken note of. perhaps you knew he knew things he shouldn't - it didn't matter, right? not as long as he said he loved you in the end, not as long as he played along, right? ~~not as long as he forgot about it before the next day, right?~~

in the end - it was his choice to stay, right?

except, except. precious, perfect seven, too smart for his own good. he must have known, you're a fool for thinking you can make someone forget about how you can make them forget, you're so, so _naive_ and it's the biggest mistake you've made, really, _trusting_ a hacker this much right after he smashed your trust in your face.

you understand the glitches now, at least. the game is code, he plays with code like he has played with code most of his life for fun and profit. he found out the first time - you've been incredibly stupid in thinking he wouldn't again. he went a step further than that, though, and that's what lands you here.

here: confronting him about it.  
here; forcing his hand.  
_here_ \- gambling everything on this love you've found, all in, win all or lose all.  
it's the first time you've confirmed his suspicions outright. the last mistake you've made, too.

the first was to trust him; no, the first was to fall for him that very first time you met, the last will be thinking honesty will fix things, that what kept him with you was anything other than fear.

he's so afraid of you.

you see it - not for the first time, no. you forget about that. but for the last, perhaps, which you won't forget anytime soon.  
you won't forget the last time you've seen him terrified, because it's the last time you'll see him.

he leaves the chat.  
you can't exactly pursue, simmering in slowly building frustration and anger and shock - but then, your sms thread disappears just as you are about to type a message out. you think he has deleted it or blocked you somehow; but then his profile disappears too. you tap on the first group chat you see, and.  
he's gone.

your breath stops.

seven's gone. all references to seven are gone, removed with almost surgical precision. it renders most conversations about him totally unintelligible, chats hanging for several seconds before displaying. all pictures of him are gone; there is still a place where the folder used to be. your first thought is that he must have hidden things from you somehow, must be blocking you out somehow -  
you open the code for the app in a text editor window.

the app itself hangs, unresponsive, as your eyes scan line upon line upon line, eventually giving up as you type '707' into the search box.  
_no results._  
you type 'seven'.  
_no results._  
you type his real name, as a desperate attempt.  
_no results._

he has essentially _erased_ himself, _deleted_ his entire existence.  
that thought makes you violently sick, hand fluttering up to your throat and to your mouth, just as the app crashes for real.

you restart it.  
the cold settles in your teeth and lungs to make friends with the rising nausea and the messenger throws a black screen at you, crashing almost instantly.  
you try again.  
again and again and again. there's no change.  
that's pretty much when you lose it.  
you clear all the data for the app, try to launch it again, and it crashes and crashes and the phone crashes against the glass of the mirror on your wall when you launch it. you leap after it on instinct, grabbing at it even as splinters of the smashed screen mix with the broken shards. they paint your fingertips and palms and wrists red as you cup the phone in your hands almost lovingly, waiting for it to turn on, for everything to work out in the end. it doesn't.  
your hands tremble when you howl. you catch a glimpse of your reflection, for a second, in the jagged slivers on the floor. it's not long enough for you to properly register, before you swipe your hand through them, sending glass skittering across your floor.  
when it all ends, you are quiet.

 

 

 

 

 

  
you sit on the floor, mirror digging into your leg, a warm trickle seeping its way down your wrist into the remains of your phone. silent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this feels like it was basically 3 chapters where everything, including my writing, progressively got _worse_. i murdered my own plot bunny. rip
> 
> i promise to revisit this concept once i am better at writing. until now pls feed me with feedback ;-;

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr](http://wingtae.tk)!!!  
>  FEED ME WITH UR WORDS. i gave u mine


End file.
